Kitty Posted April 8, 2004 Share Posted April 8, 2004 [color=blue][size=1]Before I start this, realize that it's about no one inparticular. The character I'm portraying is a teenage girl who lives a basic life, day to day. I wrote this when I had nothing better to do than to torture a person in my immagination. Eh. [center]~~~[/center][/size][/color] [size=1]I had planned on going to my grandpa's funeral. I really had. I got all dressed up and everything! My mother was a wreck, my step-father had just recently disappeared, my real father had lost custody of me, too; I had no choice but to go. My mother had written something and had planned on reading it, but she couldn't stand for five seconds without bursting into tears and start mumbling instead of talking. When my aunt had offered to read it, my mother's tantrums grew worse; they were currently fueding over some ridiculous statements she had said in court. So I was given the duty of performing the speech. At the time, I thought it an honour; now I look back and realize it was a responsibility that I shrugged off. I missed my grandpa. After all, he taught me about all the things I love and use now. And even in his will, he favored me. He gave me loads of his earnings and valuable possessions that I'd had my eye on. Tears still form when I remember the reading of his will. That day is something I can't forget- no- won't forget. I can't let myself loose the feeling of shame I had. If I did, I wouldn't believe it happened. The day of his funeral, right before I drove off in the car my grandpa left to me, my old boyfriend showed up. He was drunk. So drunk, in fact, that you could smell him before you saw him. I couldn't just leave him there. I didn't trust him. I sat with him on my front lawn, letting the guilt slowly and painfully engulf my conciousness. When he'd begun to sober up, I tried to leave. As hard as I could, I tried to leave the one I thought loved me alone, half-drunk, half-sober, alone on the grass. But I couldn't. My love (which now I realize was lust) prevented me from leaving that pig's side. Still the guilt of missing the first hour of my grandpa's ceremony of death tore at me from within. I was near the breaking point. Pulled in two directions; one of a beloved and dearly departed family member, the other a shameless pig who rarely showed any care for me at all. My anger of realization swelled up, my 'love' of the heap on the ground gone. I stood up immediatly, yelling things I can't recall. I left towards the cemetary, tears streaming down my rosey red cheeks, the wind nipping at my face. "Please..." I whispered, "Please wait for me..." Of all the things, I wanted my grandpa to wait for me so I could say good-bye one last time. But it wasn't up to him. He couldn't wait. No one would wait. I missed the sobs and moans of loss. I missed the final words of my dear grandpa. I missed his coffin being buried. I missed.. everything. My tears blinded me. My self-hatred choked me. My shame drowned me. My love disolved before me as I fell. Falling endlessly it seemed, until I landed on a soft and pillowy bed. I woke, dazed and confused, surrounded by people. I sat up-- but no.. My body still lay in the hospital bed. I was even more frazzled. I became anxious and scared. "This is a bad dream. Just a nightmare. Nothing like this could be real..." But alas. It was real. I turned my head and saw a monitor with a green line slowly flying across it. "Gone. But not alone. Grandpa... here I come," I said rising towards the ceiling.[/size] [color=blue][size=1][center]~~~[/center] Sad, huh? Yeah. Please tell me what you think of it.[/color][/size] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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